Shinigami Rising
by Swifthawk
Summary: Nikolai ended it with one final kick to the ribs, sending the body sprawling over onto it's back, where it settled and lay still. "Consider this a warning Julius." He said.
1. Insubordinate Behavior

Shinigami Rising 

By SRSilverhawk

Disclaimer:  Alright, I already know I don't own Gundam Wing, and I especially don't own Duo Maxwell- tender little tart o'goodness that he is- they both belong to their oh so wonderful Japanese creator.  Also, this fic is a side-story to the prank-filled clone epic "I Hate Americans," which was written by the author known as Mieren. This story is being written with her full permission and support. However, you won't have any idea of what this fic is about unless you read that story first. Go read that one then come back here, when you've done that, enjoy the fic. 

Chapter 1: Insubordinate Behavior

**Training Center VIII: Chikara Division**

**Africa, Earth**

12 February, AC. 185 

                There was a pause, a slight twitch of an eyebrow.  She frowned darkly. "Stop smiling at me." 934 growled.

                "Was not smiling at you." 897 replied with deceptive coolness. "I was just smiling, that's all."

                "You lie." 934 sat up bolt straight, glowering at her sibling.

                897's eyes narrowed. "I never lie, you lie." His voice did not rise so much as an octave, it was still calm, restrained and grinding further on 934's painfully short nerves.

                "You call me a liar?!" 934 was positively bristling now.

                "You are a liar for a calling me a liar, and anyway you said it first, not me!"

                "He called me a liar again!" She turned to address the rest of the division, most of whom where tired from their morning training session and resting on their cots. "You all heard that, right?" She asked of them. 

                1022 slid one eye open and regarded both 934 and 897 with calm formality for a moment. "Stop fighting, you two." 

                "Just answer the question, idiot." 934 yelled, directing her full attention to 1022, having becoming frustrated at the lack of attention her siblings were paying to the situation.

Ordinarily, 1022 was, in truth, the mildest and most pacifist member of the entire Chikara division.  She was forever cool and calculating, but only to within a certain boundary, once that line was crossed she became a fair berserker, especially with the other female members of her group.

934 had just jumped clear over 1022's line of tolerance. 

1022's pale purple eyes narrowed to thin slits, she had been lying at the edge of her cot, looking spectacularly lazy, but in one swift blur of motion she sprung up and charged at 934, 897 slipped his body between the two to head off the melee he knew would happen if 1022 and 934 laid so much as a finger on each other. 

"If she wants a fight, and I know she does, she gets to fight with me." He said, in that infuriatingly easy voice of his.

                "No. Me!" 1022 snapped. 

                The others in the division watched, most grumbling but otherwise taking no part in what was just another squabble in many.  However, some were enjoying the show, 1031, for example, was even goading them on under his breath.  

                897 soothed 1022's ire, a talent only he possessed, and turned back to face 934, who was shifting her weight back and forth restlessly, eagerness to fight clear in her amethyst eyes, eyes which were an exact duplicate of 897's, just as most, if not all, of 934 and 897's features where identical.  The two main traits that were completely shared among all of the Chikara division.

                "Okay, a fight you want, a fight you get. Just you and me." 897, loosing a deliberate cheerful smile at his duplicate.

                934 hated 897 and his insulting cheerfulness.  He smiled too much for her tastes. But he wouldn't be smiling for long, she thought as she turned and walked out of their barracks, not after she ground his face into the dirt for a while. Oh, no he would definitely not be smiling then. She opened the door and walked outside into the warm, continental air, she heard 897 follow behind her and a moment later the door closing, though she didn't once turn back to look. As she had been trained, 934 thought only of what she would plan to do to her sibling.

                That she, herself, didn't know how to smile was one reason 934 particularly hated 897's habit of doing so, which he only displayed when the scientists and trainers' backs were turned.  In her early days, fresh out of the tube where she had gestated, 934 might have smiled, might have smiled a lot.  She had vague and fading memories of being tended by a woman who took no pleasure in her work tending to her and the thousand siblings that were with her.  Highly skilled and well trained herself, the nanny (as she and others who filled a similar role had mockingly been termed) had been more than efficient at supplying their nutritional needs and seeing to it that their motor skills developed as quickly and as smoothly as possible.  Past that, the nanny never had need or cause to even acknowledge or respond to any 'normal' human behavior those in 934's group had shown.  With no reaction to reward their babyish behavior, the synapses within the infants' brains, in particular those which held the directions for eliciting maternal care that instinct and evolution had drilled into every newborn's mind, withered and died, leaving the infants without much sense of empathy or the basic emotions of joy and warmth.  Most of them essentially became emotional vegetables, unable to comprehend shows of emotion and in general becoming highly irritated by them.

                They had been taken away from the nannies as a whole and then separated into nine separate divisions soon after; later, each division was assigned to their own training center. All to be observed, tested, measured and constantly watched by a battery of scientists, military brass and instructors for a purpose that had yet to be clearly defined to any of the children. 

There was only one chief instructor who was keeping a level eye on the Chikara group at the moment.  That instructor's name was Julius, a soldier-turned-drill sergeant who was spending the latter part of his military career in charge of training them.  His task was to build up the division's physical skills and begin rudimentary teaching in the group's signature talents. Later, those that survived the basic program would be turned over to yet another group, the high level instructors, who would fine-tune and add onto all of the basic and medium skills he would teach, and would formally train the division to their allotted niches.  However, that was for long in the future, and that time would not be for another seven years or so. For now, Julius would have the Chikara division all to himself. 

Julius was watching what went on in the main courtyard where 879 and 934 were headed, through hard blue eyes.  If there was one thing that he, personally, was supposed to deal with in particular with these living weapons it was to see that none of them killed each other.  He abandoned the rest of the Chikara-division instructors, who were in the midst of setting up the next batch of weight training dummies for the division's afternoon training session.  

                   Another thing 934 hated about 897 was that he was a half-inch taller than her. 934, already first in the intelligence tests and physical ability, intended to be first in _everything_ and be on top of everyone.  That being her goal, 934 also did not want anyone to be _taller_ than her either.  Or broader shouldered (1084 was starting to rapidly gain on her there), or a faster runner (1002 could out-sprint everyone, but even he couldn't beat her in long distance running), or even wield a weapon with greater skill than herself, something that 880 did with such skill and supple grace that his abnormally low strength was actually being overlooked by the scientists and 934 both dreaded having to spar with him and doubted that she'd ever catch up.

However, in nearly all of the basic training exercises 934 was the best.  When the time came for her to finally test out and move up to the higher levels of her training she fully intended to kill any sibling who was set against her.  She was _going_ to be the best and the others would either deal with that fact or go to hell in her opinion. 

She personally preferred the latter option.

934 and 897 took their positions three yards apart from each other inside a dusty ring, not far from the barracks. 897 not only kept his infuriating grin but also had the temerity to bow in such a way that it seemed to 934 to be perfectly sarcastic. The bow caused a short burst of muffled laughter from 1022, which 934 noticed was leaning against the wall of the Chikara barracks, the only member of the division who had been amused sufficiently to come out and watch. 

"I'll take care of you later." 934 growled in 1022's direction. Again 1022's bile rose to a boil and 897 was forced to wave her off.

                After waving off his friend, 897 dropped down and rushed 934.  That made the girl furious, she always made the first move, always struck the first blow, always drew first blood. 897 had known that perfectly well, and had been counting on that move to throw his sibling into her predictable rage.  It was also for that very same reason that he had been walking around with his grin, not only because it worked facial muscles he liked but also because somehow during his training he had found out that his opponents found it annoying.  He knew that a distracted opponent was a beaten one, and thus had developed his habit of purposefully annoying those he was pitted against. If he could make them angry, they would get foolish and start making stupid mistakes.  Unlike his friend 1022, 879 lived for the battle; he loved any kind of fray he could get into and he didn't care with whom it was so long as blood was flying.  

                934 held her ground until the last possible second, then twisted and elbowed 897 aside.  Using the momentum of the contact as a slingshot she spun in an almost beautiful motion and caught him in the ribs with her heel before he could recover and attack again.  He fell into the dust and she jumped on him, reaching to try and twist his arms behind his back and pin him.

                With some of the members of their division, that would have ended it right then and there. 934 would have slowly begun dislocating their shoulders until they had been forced to cry surrender.  Unfortunately for 934, Julian's training regimen was strict, extensive and hard, and even though they were all only five years old, 897 had developed more than enough arm and muscle strength to push an attacker off of him.  Add on the fact that 897's joints were all as limber and loose as water and he was near impossible to hold down. He allowed the ball in his right shoulder joint to pop out of place and twisted his body out from underneath 934. Rolling to his feet and hopping back, he then lifted the arm over his head, the round head of the ball and socket joint popping back into it's socket with no more than a light crunching sound, as though he had simply cracked his knuckles.  

He smiled at 934 again.

                All this was unseen to 934, however, as she had rolled away the moment 897 had loosed himself from her grip in an attempt to dodge what she worried might be a sneak attack on her vulnerable back.  Loosing all sense of balance she rolled to one knee, overbalanced, tilted forward and to the side and hit her head on a rock she had been fairly sure hadn't been there before.  She looked up at 1022 and noted that the other girl was wearing a satisfied and slightly smug look on her face. 934 had no time to contemplate revenge as she sensed 897 rushing her again.  He was scuttling along the ground sideways like a crab, throwing up puffs of dust behind him, and making himself a perfect target for her keen and sharp elbow, as she twisted her midsection to meet him.

                897's amethyst eyes briefly crossed before they closed, blinded by a sudden wash of tears as he fell to 934's side, blood flowing freely from his nose. 934, sure she had just won, began to stand. But before she was firmly over her heels again, in that vulnerable fraction of a second where all her weight was on her toes, 897 snapped his eyes open, lunged and grabbed her ankles, one in each hand, and pulled them towards himself with all the speed and strength he could muster from his prone position.  934 went down on her back with a thump that knocked all the breath from her lungs and made her bite the inside of her cheek hard enough to make it bleed.  897 didn't pause to gloat over the success of his fake, instead he hauled himself over her, trying to catch her arms and pin her there.

                "Fat chance of that," 934 spat blood at him, as she smacked him in the throat with the heel of her left hand. The punch had been meant to do nothing more than knock him back, not to take him out of the fight as it easily could have, but merely to let her squirm away in one of the athletic maneuvers she was famous for.  934 wanted to beat 897 on her feet.  She leapt to her feet as 897 rocked back, hand to his throat, and readied her fist for a punch to his nose. She was about to win; she could taste it in her blood.  She cocked her arm back and-

                "Enough!" Julius said as he seemingly appeared out of nowhere and strode towards the trio.

                934's fist halted just as it passed her shoulder, her face slipping on the expected mask of neutrality that she had been taught to show to her superiors. 897 and 1022 followed suit a heartbeat later, nevertheless, beneath all three masks rage burned white-hot at the interference.   

                Julius' long legs carried him easily to the two grapples in only a few strides.  In a quick snake-like motion he grabbed the back of 934's beige uniform and grabbed 897 by his shoulder and pulled them apart.

                Though none of them would ever admit it, all of the Chikara division was either absolutely terrified of Julius or very careful not to needlessly anger him.  What made them fear him was the strength that outmatched their own in his wiry frame.  That, and the cold, merciless fire in his eyes and the scars he had all over his face and body, all remnants of his days as one of the elite Mobile Suit pilots and hand-to-hand combat specialist.  However, what the Chikara division didn't know about Julius is that they shared a highly similar past.

                There was not one member of the division who would have loved to challenge the warrior to a fight.  Many dreamed of it with glee, but they all knew they would have as surely lost such a match as a moth dies when if flies into the light source of a candle.  934 feared his strength like the rest of her siblings, but all the same she fought that fear back hard.  She was determined to fear no one, ever.

                "We are on break, we were free to fight, sir." She tightly said, addressing his chin, she could not force her eyes higher than that. 

"It's not right to stop that, sir." 897 also added, however, unlike his bolder sister, he only spoke to Julius' leg.  

There, they had said it, 943's eyes slipped down to Julian's chest, awaiting her sibling's and her own fate. 1022 simply listened and tried not to even look like she was even concerned about what was about to happen, they had all seen their other siblings from other divisions shot dead for less trifling things. To talk back to an instructor was a death sentence and they all knew it.

                Julius smiled, a smile quite unlike 897's for his smirk held only contempt and no one liked to see it.  Internally, he was pumping his fist in the air with a sense of victory; finally, he had found at least one member of this wretched group with a backbone.  For one moment, Julius was glad those lazy asshole scientists he had to scrape to were on one of their self-assigned coffee breaks, no doubt his plan would have come crashing down had even one of them been within hearing distance; the same went for his fellow instructors.  Those thoughts were all passed and processed through Julius' mind in half a second. He jerked the collar of 934's uniform, pulling her head back and making her look up at him. "You might think you can do anything you want." He snarled down at her, "But while you are here, I will be the one who decides what you do and whether you live or die.  All of you serve me and don't you ever forget it."  He was talking to the entire division now.  Those in the barracks had quickly come out and filed for inspection at the first sounding of his voice.

                "You may not think of anything aside from what I tell you to think, and you will do as I tell you to do. Never anything else, not while you are under my tutelage.  When you become soldiers, you may do as you like, fight when you like, and die however you like." He paused to glare at them all separately, all but two of the group failed to hold his gaze. Julius quickly checked his mental numbers, the two who met his look were numbers 1031 and 1084, they had higher than average physical strength than their peers but other than that were nothing special to him. "Here you are nothing by mindless scum, got it?" He looked back down at 934 and 897 again, "What was this little tussle about?" he asked.

                "I smiled at her." 897 said, glaring at 934.

                "All this over a smile?"

                Feeling a little bold, as they had seemed to have somehow escaped immediate death 934 said, "Yes," with venomous defiance.  Now she was playing a fine line and she knew it, but didn't care so long as she proved to herself that this man would not scare her as he did her siblings.

                "A waste." Julius looked up at the rest of the Chikara division, "Get back into the barracks, all of you. If you think this morning was difficult I will be highly amused to see if any of you survive until nightfall.  Get what little rest you can."

                As the Chikara division filed noiselessly back into the barracks, Julius ordered 934 and 897 to stay where they were a moment longer.  When they are alone, the soldier crossed his arms appraisingly over his chest and looked down at the five-year-olds who stood at attention before him. "At ease," he said. When they both had shifted to that new position Julius walked in a slow circle around them. "So," he said as he passed behind her, "this fight was over nothing but a smile?"

                "Yes, sir." 934 and 879 replied.

                "Very stupid of you, nine-three-four.  You both think yourselves an unstoppable force too far ahead of time.  You are not a warrior until you are a warrior.  While you are under my care, you are foolish, weak children and nothing more. Dismissed."

                As the siblings walked back to the barracks, Julius calmly said to himself. "But then again, warriors ahead of your time you might be, but I expect you will be good ones." He smiled and pulled a small Palm Pilot from the inside of his shirt.  He looked at the retreating figures one final time and made his decision. The message he so carefully typed was:

**Identification code: 934 and 879-Chikara Division**

**Warning: 934 is beginning to show signs of highly willful, aggressive, and insubordinate behavior. 879 is openly showing emotions. Currently proceeding with caution and marking subjects for termination on any further outbursts.  Chief Instructor # 15 Julius Buhallin requesting permission to terminate should the need arise.**

                Julius sent the message and awaited the response.  He did not have to wait long.

**Chief Instructor # 15 Julius Buhallin. Permission granted to terminate subject 934-Chikara Division on grounds of insubordinate behavior should the situation call for it. Permission also granted to terminate subject 879-Chikara Division for behavior disruptive to the group should that need also come to pass.**

                Julius nodded to the empty air and allowed himself a smug smile.  Things were falling perfectly into place.  He slipped the mini-computer back under his clothes and went back to the painstaking task of arraigning the next set of exercises for the division. 

*              *              *

                She watched him stride away.  When he was out of sight, she ran swiftly and silently to the border of the encampment, to an open field near some long-abandoned barracks located near the fence.  There she began to exercise fiercely so that she would be better for the day's later training.

                As she performed a long set of jumping jacks, a sound caught her attention and she looked past the fence and saw some movement in the hillside beyond.  There was someone or something behind a bush, of that she was certain.  She gave the area sidelong glances, taking special care not to interrupt the rhythmic pattern of her movements and after a moment she was certain it was a person that she had seen.   

            Now 934 was _certain_ someone was spying.  She detested the idea of spies, but was strangely thrilled that she might discover one.  She began to plan a trap.   


	2. Subversive Behavior

Chapter 2: Subversive Behavior

**Training Center VIII: Chikara Division**

**Africa, Earth**

12 February, AC. 185 

                From her hiding place behind a patch of flowering bushes Demeter studied the girl doing jumping jacks on the other side of a gnarled wire fence. Although obviously only four or five years old at the most, the girl was extremely well developed physically, a healthy specimen, she carried taunt muscles on an otherwise lean body, and there was an extremely smooth graceful quality to her aerobics.  She looked and behaved very much like Demeter remembered herself when she had been that age. 

                However, the child's physical attributes were nothing when Demeter looked closely at the girl's face.  The face was identical to someone Demeter remembered from her own childhood.  

The girl looked exactly like her younger sister, Damia.

                Demeter cocked her head to one side, intensely gazing at the child.  This girl looked exactly like Damia as she had been at that age.  Not just a passing resemblance, or some similar features, but _entirely _like her.  Had she not known that her sibling contemporary was just as old as she was, Demeter would have sworn to the highest court that she had seen her sister at play-returned to life from whatever fate had claimed her and ready to take the world on again.  Even the way this little girl here performed her exercises- quickly but smoothly, with full concentration on precision- reminded Demeter of her sister.

                That Demeter had even found this place was two parts luck and a fraction of good detective work.  It had been hard, but after three years of suspicions she had discovered that Romefeller had been conducting a massive genetic project in secret.  As a scientist herself, and one well-respected and in fairly high demand for her skills at genetic manipulation and encoding for new traits, she had nevertheless been kept in the dark about this project.  Even worse, in her own opinion, was that given what she had found out, the girl she was looking at was merely an extension of the experiments she herself had been subject to and had somehow survived.  

This had all started when she had heard rumors and found traces of her own genotype in use in a laboratory in the Cape of Good Hope in Africa.  Because those records were not supposed to exist she had immediately taken her findings to the governing body of the Romefeller medical hierarchy, currently in charge of that was one Dr. Barton.  Her investigation had abruptly stalled as she came up against the usual mass of red tape and bureaucratic pitfalls.  The official report said that at no time had there been any official genetic experiments going on and, even if there were such experiments, Demeter had no right or authority to question about them.  She had countered by asking if that meant that there _were_ secret programs going on; her superiors couldn't deny it without backtracking on themselves, so in pure political fashion, they threw more paperwork in her path to block her.  

                She had carried on regardless.  Demeter had requested meetings with Dr. Barton, but each time the irritatingly sly man would find some new excuse to never show-even when she managed to catch him on his daily constitutional walk he told her that he could not speak with her then and hoped that they could set an appointment soon.

                Demeter's search would have continued in that snarl of regulations and she would have eventually given up and put the whole matter out of her mind… However, one evening she had decided to go to the racetracks in a very brooding mood.

*              *              *

                The race was over almost as quickly as it began and the winning horse, a gray dappled Arab-crossbreed, trotted to the winner's circle to claim it's winnings and rose blanket.  Demeter was sitting back, watching the proceedings through the massive plate glass windows before her, and sipping a gin and tonic. She was not fond of alcohol in general, but it had been this or a Bloody Mary and Demeter had not felt like playing with celery and tomato juice at that moment.  She had to admit though that the gin did taste good, much richer than what was in the gen-tech lounge, another perk of having demanding early on her freedom of movement from her superiors.  She watched re-plays of the race and let the booze tickle her brain, in those rare times Demeter needed a break from her work and had to fuzz her mind a bit with something fermented the track was the best place to go.

                She took another sip, wincing a little as the bite hit her, she looked at the glass in her fingers, _'I bet it's this strong just to loosen wallets_,' she thought as she smiled, amused at the money schemes of the outside world.  Since she was a scientist, she could pay on company credit and never owe a single red cent.  She played with that properly, tweaking computers now and then, and so far had managed about ten years without ever having to pay for rent and utilities, it was extremely convenient having a tab in a big corporation… so dammed easy to hide too…   

                Someone came up and sat down beside her at the bar, ordinarily Demeter couldn't give a damn who came and went around her in a place like this, however, this time she glanced at the newcomer from the corner of one eye for a half-second and went back to her drink. 

                Apparently she had looked for a half-second too long. "Gin and tonic? Don't often see med-techs sipping on those." The newcomer said, it was a fairly old man, Demeter noticed. She also noticed that he had a surprisingly lilting voice for one who looked his age.

                She chose not to look at the man, but she answered him anyway. "I was almost a soldier before I became a tech.  Flushed out mid-way in the program, was there long enough to learn to like the taste. Pity for me I couldn't stay."

                "Good thing for you, you mean.  The soldier types around here are nothing to be proud of, truth be told.  All that arrogant goose-stepping they do."

                Demeter frowned slightly. "Leave off, I happen to respect the military.  You should too." 

                "You were part of it. I was not."

                In the long interval of silence after that last comment, Demeter listened for the sounds of her unwelcome company leaving.  However, while she heard nothing over the racket as new bets were being placed, the smell of old age was still there...

                "This might seem funny to you," the man said. "But in this poor facsimile of light you look like someone I used to know. Knew very well actually."

                "Stop looking at me then, the feeling should wear off in a few moments." Demeter irritably noticed that her drink was starting to make her more sharp-tongued than usual.

                "Sure, sure. But you do look very familiar.  Just thought you might like to know that."

                "Whatever…"and then, _'thrice damned curiosity'_, "Who do I look like?"

                "Her name was Damia.  I'm sure you-"

                Demeter had to look then and what she saw was what she thought she would see.  He was indeed an old man.  In fact, while his wrinkles were not on top of other wrinkles they were pretty damn close to being that way. For a moment Demeter was given a chill that almost made her cough up her last sip.  While it was common for people of her generation to react that way to anybody old, old people being quite uncommon right now, that was merely for someone fairly old, in their fifties kind of old.  This man looked positively ancient, rather like a prune that had been left in some water for about a week.  Yet beneath the hideous accumulation of age the face seemed vaguely familiar to her.

                "You knew Damia?" Demeter suspiciously asked.

                "Yep, and now that you're looking at me, I know why you reminded me of her.  I remember you now, your name is Demeter and you were in that same testing group.  I think the last time I saw you was when you and that scamp brother Ares of yours got into that scuffle that I had to break up."

                Her memories of childhood, so long ago, and rather unpleasant, were filed back deep in Demeter's mind. She stared at the old man's face, carefully she mentally nipped and tucked, smoothing skin, removing the years from the face. 

                Head cocked to the side in slight uncertainty she looked very hard in the dim light. "You, you are… River?"

                He smiled, even and only slightly off-color teeth showed in the light. "Congratulations my dear, you did have the best memory for eidetic details."

                "I am a genetic scientist." Demeter said. "It comes in handy for me to know exactly how something should look and what something looks like when it's not right." She paused for a moment and cocked an eyebrow, "I had heard you were dead."

                He smiled ruefully, "That's the story going around apparently." 

                For the next hour and a half Demeter and River exchanged both pleasantries and history since the last time they had met.  River found out how Demeter had fared during those years after the project she and her siblings had been part of.  Demeter learned of how River had been retired from his occupation as a manipulator, meaning he once handled genetic cuts and splicing by hand, because of rheumatoid arthritis, which had crippled his knuckles and wrists.

                "I quickly proved myself quite useless in several other occupations because of the pain." He admitted. "I was eventually lowered to sanitation.  Even hands that have lost their keen feel and touch and are extremely stiff and painful can push a broom or move cargo."

                Demeter shook her head, "A waste of your talents, simply because of what you know."

                "That is fairly arguable, Demeter." River answered.

                Eventually River got around to asking her just what she was doing at a racetrack and, because she had been polite enough to drink two more gins to keep her companion company and that had been one too many, she told him what she was after.  She did feel more relaxed afterwards, having vented all her irritation and suspicions against Barton.  When she mentioned the hidden experiments she knew were happening River took on a quietly thoughtful look that Demeter instantly recognized as someone who knew something. She told him she thought as much.

                "I always know something, no one pays attention to the cleaning staff, you know."

                "Tell me."

                River, in a highly direct but also highly embroidered style quickly described a compound not very far away from where they were that was run by many high-level scientists, all in Barton's pocketbook.  Rumor had it that there were also quite a few military brass that made their way in and out of the compound at not infrequent times. The place was also both very large and very well guarded by several squadrons of Mobile Suits and foot patrols, all pretending to be instructors, and dressed in army drill sergeant uniforms.

                "Most people with sense, stay away from that place." River said, then he chuckled. "But of course we have your types that think it's some kind of new Roswell and are certain that space aliens are being held there, you know, the usual bull."

                "I know you know more than that little bit." Demeter attempted, without success, to guilt him into saying more.

                "Of course." River said, after taking another pull of his drink. "They also a bunch of generals, who are all very interested and concerned with this project, make almost daily visits. Barton himself goes there at least once a week.  I know a lot, but I don't know what their project is. I am sorry to say."

                In another ten minutes, the combined amount of the alcohol Demeter and River had consumed was interfering with their ability to communicate productively.  Demeter abruptly snapped herself out of a light, staring doze and found all traces of River gone, even the mug he'd been drinking his beer out of had vanished.  For a while Demeter simply sat there, tried to work through the fuzz in her brain and wondered if she had dreamed the whole thing.  That watery conviction solidified into something a lot more solid after she'd gone to ask the sanitation service if they had an elderly man named River in their employment.  No one had ever heard the name and no one fitted the description she gave of him.

*              *              *

                River had ended up giving Demeter just the information she had needed to find the base, slip into it undetected and find her hidden observation point.  While she had been reliving these old, but still interesting memories, the Damia look-alike had finished her exercises and disappeared around a barracks building.

                Everything was quiet for a while, until Demeter suddenly felt a presence behind her.  Before she could turn, a tap fell on her shoulder.  She looked back carefully and saw the child.  She almost gasped when she saw that up close the resemblance was even stronger than she had thought possible.  A terrible suspicion formed a hard knot near her stomach.

                "You look surprised." The child, a girl, said evenly.

                "I am surprised." Demeter said.

                "Why is that?" The girl asked.

                Demeter did not want to say it was because she reminded her of a supposedly dead sister, so instead she opted for a half-truth. "I wasn't expecting anyone to sneak up on me, that's what surprised me."

                The girl looked into her eyes hard for a while. Demeter noticed they were a light violet in color. "You're lying," she said, "but it doesn't matter.  You are not surprised, just afraid because I caught you."

                Part of Demeter wanted to simply get into an argument about that, yet her curiosity, which was bigger, made the quarrelsome part shut up, she stayed where she was. "Now what then?" She asked. "Going to turn me in for some kind of reward?"

                The girl shrugged. "Not yet, I have questions-"

                '_You and me both_.' Demeter thought.

                "-You look like me, I want to know why.  You are my prisoner, spy, if you won't tell me I will torture you if I have to.  Come with me."

                This struck Demeter as both amusing and worrisome. "Why would we want to go anywhere?  You can interrogate me right here if you want."

                "With you looking for a way out to escape? I don't think so spy.  I have a place, no one goes there.  We're going there, on your feet."

                To Demeter, this seemed like too-perfect a way to get the information she wanted, even if she was only playing within a child's fantasy.  Even if the girl turned her in to one of Barton's little followers, with her rank and standing within the medical community she could talk her way out of any situation here.  The very worst that could happen is that she would be sent off for a reprimand by Barton himself… at least that way she'd get her meeting.

                The girl led her though some tall grass to a spot near the fence, where she was able to lift a section that would allow Demeter, interestingly, to walk through into the camp without doing more than dipping her head slightly.  

                "I disabled the alarm here months ago." The girl said by way of candid explanation. "I am good at that, so are most of the others, they just don't use it.  It lets me sneak out, I figured I'd see something interesting eventually.  I am Nine-Three-Four."

                '_Nine-three four, what does that mean?  Are there nine hundred more just like her running around here?_' Demeter's thoughts raced. "I am Demeter."

                "You are very pretty Demeter.  Like me."

                Demeter slipped into the barracks perimeter, directly behind her 934 followed, letting the fencing fall softly back into place.  Demeter made a mental note of where it was, she might need to use it herself if things got rough.  She then allowed the girl, number 934, to lead her to the nearest building, a thoroughly abandoned trainee quarters.

                "Go in there," 934 said, motioning towards the door. "I must go back soon, so we have to talk quickly.  You talk, and maybe, if I like what I hear, I might not turn you in."


	3. Suspicious Behavior

Chapter 3: Suspicious Behavior

**Training Center VIII: Chikara Division**

**Africa, Earth**

12 February, AC. 185 

                It had been years since Demeter had set foot inside a barracks, since she had been in the project in fact. The last time was when she had been ejected from the remainder of the experiment, and instead had been turned toward the medical offices.  It had been a late night, and she had been on her way from here to one of the L-colonies to begin her medical apprenticeship.  It was all ancient history after that.

                She shut her eyes as she entered the barracks and felt the traditional, but old, smell of barracks' sweat.  Opening her eyes once inside, she saw the debris of dust and rodent droppings that clearly indicated that this barracks had been abandoned for quite some time now.  Since the building was fairly small compared to some of the others, she correctly assumed that it was because of 934 and her sibling's growth that they had been moved to bigger quarters.

                She slowly began to remember why this smell struck her as so familiar. '_In the beginning of the cloning experiments there had been fourteen of us.  The males and females had been separated, and I never met all my brothers, only a few face to face but I knew them all by name and the occasional glance so I knew what they looked like.  Of all of us, only my sister, Damia, the youngest of us, had been judged worthy to proceed further within the procedure. The rest of us could only watch, and hope we weren't about to die for our weaknesses. Given what I'm seeing now, I would have rather died. But anyway, I hadn't and had instead become quite invaluable within the med-tech units.  I can nurture and develop just about anything, for any required task, I'd even managed some splicings that no one else could keep going for longer than a month. Though I seem to work best with plants for some reason.  Some of my other siblings went into the military, and have long since disappeared, but I remember them, and I'm pretty sure they'd remember me. _

'_Damia, though, she had always been a bit of a wild card, when we were all separated at around the age of 10 or so.  I more or less could figure out what happened to the others.  But Damia, she just disappeared, like she had never existed at all_.'

                934 gave her a little shove in the small of her back. "Keep moving spy."

                Demeter smiled affectionately and picked up her pace, she looked around the room methodically gazing only long enough at any one place to accurately know what was there before moving on.  There were overturned and rusting bed frames, a few tattered mattresses, dust drifted in the rays of light coming through one window.

                934 found an intact frame, with entirely too much ease she flipped the metal frame delicately over, lifting, turning and setting it down without any visible effort. Demeter raised an eyebrow at that, something else slipped into her mind, setting itself aside to be fitted into the puzzle elsewhere.

                 "Sit here." Was the girl's order.

                "I don't suppose it matters much to you," Demeter said, eyebrows flattening out into an even line, "but I know barracks like this much better than you, 'four."

                The girl seemed surprised at this, or maybe just by the shortening of her identification number, but almost at the same moment the look registered on her face is was flattened down by a mask of neutrality.  Reaching down, she picked up an abandoned mattress and threw it onto the frame.  At the child's imperious visual demands, Demeter sat down.  Unsurprisingly, the sweat smell was stronger there, rising from the mattress in the shadow of a puff of dust.  Demeter stroked the surface with one hand, the firm material just as solid as the one she had had in her own military days, years ago.  Viewing the room from this sitting position, the barracks looked even more familiar to Demeter than they did when she had first walked in the door.  Half closing her eyes, she was able to call up a vague eidetic memory to overlay the room.

                She pictured herself sitting on a similar bunk, looking over the instructional texts they had been given earlier that day, filled to the brim of all the guile confidence of a soldier in training, looking forward to the day she could carve her name in blood on the battlefield.  She looked up to see the others just as focused in their usual nightly cramming session.  Damia with eagerness in her eyes and worry lines around her mouth that showed she was both fascinated and puzzled by what she read.  Riva and Deva, the twins, were quizzing each other (little did either of them know that they were both going to die a week after Demeter left in a live-fire accident).  Estelle worked her mouth, reading aloud, but very quietly. While Sella looked bored with the material.  Daphne, like always, was reading with that supreme 'Queen of the Mountain' look of confidence she had.

                For a long moment Demeter longed to be back among them, to have a second chance at being a warrior like the rest of them, combativeness was in her blood and she found her lab job so _tiring_ some times. Right then, her intelligence took over and reminded her that she had never been the equal of her siblings and that it was just as well she hadn't otherwise she would be dead just like them.  She was a quasi-warrior, she knew everything there was to know but physically… she somehow always reacted a nanosecond too slow, jumped an inch too short, was constantly given the brunt of abuse by their trainer and his commanding officer, a mean son-of-a-bitch if there ever was one.

                934 broke her out of her thoughts with the question of, "What are you doing here, sneaky spy?"

                Demeter identified herself as a scientist and doctor of genetics.  This made the girl's eyebrows try to make friends with her hairline.

                "Why spy then?" She asked, "Why not just come in with the others?"

                "I would not have been allowed past the front gate.  You may not know this Nine-three-four, but you and the others here are quite illegal.  And all of this is a very secret project."

                "I was already aware of that." 934 said smoothly enough, Demeter could see in her slightly unsure eyes that she was lying a bit though. Time to play.

                "Then if you know, dear, perhaps you can be so kind as to tell me what all this is about?  Maybe even why I was not informed." Internally she growled, _'Like I don't already have a huge clue to this whole fucking thing.'_

                "Do not call me 'dear'." 934 groused, glaring at Demeter.

                The med-tech raised an eyebrow, "That wasn't an insult you know, I'm simply being my usual even self."

                "Hmph." Was all the girl replied with.

                "Please tell me what this is all about, will you?" 

                Demeter knew 934 didn't know and was not surprised with the counter of. "It is a secret, I can't tell you."

                "Very well," Demeter nodded, "then do you know that you are genetically linked to some of the cream of soldiers crop that occurs oh so rarely?"

                "Of course."  This time it was rather hard to tell if 934 knew or if she was only playing along.

                "Would it impress you in any way then, to know that your progenitor and I are related?"

                In 934's eyes was a new confusion and her head actually tilted in the confused puppy-dog way then a new light sparked in her eyes and Demeter swore she almost saw a smile.  "Of course, that is why you look so much like us." 

                Indeed, discounting her blue eyes and darker, auburn-colored hair Demeter did very much resemble the violet-eyed, chestnut-haired child in front of her. "And that means what exactly?" She pressed.

                934 looked at Demeter like she was a moron. "I cannot say, secret, _remember_."

                "From what line is your matrilineal branch derived from, you can tell me that."

                Obviously confused now, 934 glanced to both left and right, then settled her gaze on Demeter's throat- she had been looking at her forehead before- she decided to say nothing except. "That is a secret also, spy."

                Demeter chuckled through her nose. "Very well, sprout, let me tell you what I think, I don't think there is a branch at all. I believe that you and your siblings are all single offshoots from those first genes, whom I am now almost certain belonged to your progenitor, a woman named Damia.  I am not sure how it was done in your case, but I'm certain that there was tampering of the chromosomes as well as mitochondrial DNA, in a sort of parthenogenesis or monogenesis, but still the implications such experime-" Demeter paused, a smile behind her eyes, she had been deliberately complex on purpose. "I'm not going to fast for you am I, Nine?"

                "Absolutely not." 934 lied, glaring murderously at Demeter, she was not going to let this woman, however fascinating she was, get the best of her.  Demeter was amused both at the girl's stubbornness, interest and sullen fury, it began to remind her very much of herself.  She had gone far beyond what she knew the child would understand, and because she did not understand Demeter was quite sure that she should not reveal anything else about herself or what she knew.  If she did 943 might just be able to piece together enough to tip off anyone who asked her about this conversation. 

                _'I wish I could find out more about this,'_ Demeter thought, _'I do not know why all this has been done.  Even if it was only with the purpose of creating the next batch of super soldiers, there must be more to this. I can't ask Nine-Three-Four any of this though, even if it would give me a better grasp of the situation.'_

                There was the sound of young voices in the background.  934 reacted to it with a frown and then a sigh.                "I must go.  Have to train.  Julius does not like it when we are late or slow.  I guess this means I will have to take you to him, spy.  He is very nasty."  934 warned.

                Demeter nodded, feigning demure acceptance of this, however, her mind raced; this situation was fast reaching a boiling point, she could not stay here.  This was something she needed to get to the bottom of as quickly as possible.  Starting with Dr. Barton.

                She stood up and 934 gestured for her to go towards the front of the barracks, the child would be behind her.  Demeter was amused, the child had such confidence in herself, but still she was only a child and Demeter was quite sure she could escape from her if she needed to.  Just as the med-tech was about to make her move, a tall, thin, dark shape blocked the sunlight coming through the open door.

                "What is this?" The man said, in an especially quiet, dangerous tone.

                934 looked around Demeter, the older woman blinked, had that been a flash of irritation she had seen on the girl's face? The child quickly stepped around Demeter and faced her instructor in a rigid, stiff posture, heels together and hands at her sides. 

                "Julius, sir, I captured this spy sneaking around, I was about to bring her to you."

                Julius took one look at Demeter and laughed loud and vigorously, stepping lightly into the room. "You children do so _insist_ on these spy games." He brushed the girl back and came to Demeter.  Even standing a few inches higher than her, Demeter did not find him all that formidable, but then again she knew just how true the saying 'looks are deceiving' was.  But also, she knew that face and knew Julius was a warrior, a warrior must never be taken for granted.

                "So, you are our spy then?" Julius asked, eyes narrowing.  This would be difficult. 

                Demeter simply shrugged.  "I was taking a look at your facility, when I met Nine-Thirty-Four there.  I am not a spy though.  I work for the Barton Foundation as a genetic manipulator and med-tech and have every right to inspect this facility." 

                "A med-tech?" Julius frowned. "I do not recall seeing you ever visiting this facility before, nor do I know your name.  You are not on the list of those deemed acceptable to come to this training facility. Now let me ask you this, how did you come here?"

                Demeter glanced at 934, who was looking a little uneasy of all that was going on right now.  She decided not to give away her hole in the fencing security grid.

                "I came in through the front gate."

                "Security would never had allowed you to enter-"

                "You might wish to check your security then, I just walked right in."

                "That is impossible." Julius was starting to get angry now.

                Demeter turned and set one foot on the mattress she had been sitting on, pretending to lace up her boot. "Impossible perhaps, but I wasn't stopped by anyone."

                "You're lying." Julius said, clamping a hand down on her shoulder at the same time. Obviously, her turning her back on him had annoyed him severely.  Demeter felt the warning strength beneath the grip, knew it well, she would have to move quickly.

                "I am a scientist," she said, putting as much ranking pride as she could into her voice. "You may not treat me thus, soldier though you are."

                Her bluff worked, Julius removed his hand and dropped it to his side, before the soldier could even think of making his next move, though, Demeter had suddenly hopped onto the foot propped on the bed and lashed out at him with her other, aiming and catching him directly in his _solar plexus _with the heel of her boot. The soldier let out a pained gasp as all the air was forced out of his lungs and he fell back. Recovering a heartbeat later, he turned one his side to break his fall and tried to sweep the bed out from under Demeter with a swinging kick from one leg.  However, the move failed as Demeter had thought ahead and jumped off the mattress and came down beside the downed instructor, using momentum to dish out a truly painful rabbit punch to the man.  She was tempted to kick him in the ribs, but decided not to push her luck.

                Instead she bolted for the barracks' entrance.

                934 followed her training and tried to head Demeter off, she was therefore unprepared to be on the receiving end of a well-placed low blow from the med-tech's elbow. The blow caught her between the eyes, and the girl's vision blurred as her brains were agonizingly jingled. Demeter was out the door even before 934 could take one step backwards from the blow.

                A tense few seconds later, Julius had gotten his wind back and he rushed to the entrance after his intruder, 934 a stride behind him.  Demeter was already on the other side of the fence and running up the hill.

                934 surmised that she had escaped through the hole she had made, but was not that concerned.  The hole would not be traced back to her, as Julius would think that Demeter had made it, 934 did not mind.  If she wanted and when, she would simply create another one for her explorations to what lay beyond the Chikara barracks.

                Julius glared after Demeter, but did not attempt to follow, nor was he angry, in fact, thought it was not part of the plan, he was please.  It may not have looked like it but Demeter was now a very good ally of his.

                934 was oddly glad Demeter had escaped, she had been impressed by the scientist's agile mind and body and mostly that she had struck several very effective blows on Julius himself, something she herself always wanted to do.

                934 had a hero now.


	4. Ruthless Behavior

Chapter 4: Ruthless Behavior

_Fully twice the size of the other groups, the Chikara division stood two hundred and nineteen strong. Having lost only thirty-one subjects, the section was the second largest in size of all of the nine divisions._

--_I Hate Americans_, Mieren, FanFiction.net

**Training Center VIII: Chikara Division**

**Africa, Earth**

23 March, AC. 185 

                "Sir," Rasa Vermond, one of the minor instructors of the Chikara Division, softly said, trying to catch only the Chief Instructor's attention, something that she had suspected for a long while had suddenly made itself clear once the dust had settled.

                Julius tilted his head in her direction, not taking his eyes off the action in the field for a moment. A brief second later he was looking down at her, eyes glittering icy-blue in the sun. "Yes, Vermond?"

                "Sir," she hesitated only for a instant, "do you think that perhaps subject Eight-eighty was somehow mistakenly placed in this Division?  While he heals well and takes no real harm from the training, he is-" She paused.

                "Lacking, I know. And there is his intellect, and weapon skill to consider as well as his habit of being unnoticed." Julius nodded once, "He does not belong in this group, perhaps in Kage or Daichi yes, but he is middle ground even then. An anomaly." It seemed plausible, none of the children were specifically designed for any particular group, simply made en masse and fractioned out among the training centers.

                Rasa took a chance to disagree a little bit with her superior. "Well, actually sir.  I took the liberty of looking in the other division records and noting irregularities, our Eight-eighty is not unique."

                "Oh?" This caught Julius' attention. "There were others not unlike him?"

                "Yes sir, in Mizu there were a pair that acted similarly, as well as one in Daichi and three in the new joined group, Kage-Juuryoku.  They were all below average in the skill that was being taught, but they made up for it other ways. The Mizu pair, for example, were much better at agility than in their specified element. One in Kage-Juuryoku was seen making palm-sized ball lightning, the other two played games with water, and the one in Daichi made a few fast-spreading wildfires. They were much like our eight-eighty and his skill in weapons and high intelligence."

                One eyebrow lowered, "I am noticing you were using the past tense, Rasa. Why?" 

                "Unfortunately sir, all other subjects had been terminated for not meeting required standard.  Looking at the one we have here.  I thought there might be a chance to sort him out for specialty training before he could be culled."

                "Specialty training?"  This gave Julius ideas. 

                "Yes, sir, perhaps for a technician or as a bodyguard or something along those lines.  It seems a waste to throw away a perfectly capable individual when the available talent could be turned elsewhere."

                Julius fixed Rasa with such a penetrating stare that the younger instructor quickly began to quail a little beneath his gaze. "If I did not know better, Rasa Vermond, I would think you are beginning to become attached to these weapons.  That _is _what they are, have you forgotten that?" 

"No sir," Rasa swallowed, highly unnerved by the look in her superior's eyes, "Never, sir," she said, looking back towards the field where the children were starting to regroup for inspection.  

Julius let her go, his point made.  

Though, he was slightly disappointed, he had wanted a fight.

*              *              *

**Barton Foundation, Science and Medical Research Branch**

**Building # 4**

**Africa, Earth**

24 March, AC. 185 

                Doctor Cristobel Barton never raised his voice.  As the scientist in charge of the Shinigami projects, and at the top of the Barton family hierarchy of power, at least in the medical field, he didn't have to and rarely saw a reason to do so.  

                Besides, he had plenty of subordinates to do his yelling for him.

                As he leaned towards Demeter, _Doctor_ Demeter Ederle, he took a moment to wonder why that last name rung a bell to him.  He remembered in an instant, Demeter had no real last name, having only been assigned the name Demeter and an identification number before she had flushed out of her training.  She had picked up 'Ederle' to add to her name from her mentor, Doctor Karl Frederick Ederle, whom she had been trained under. The former Dr. Ederle was three years into a visit in the skull orchard now.  _'Demeter…_ _What a laughably ridiculous name_.' Cristobel thought to himself in smug amusement, _'They must have drawn some of those names out of a hat, after taking them from an overdue library book or something of that kind to tag anyone with a name like _Demeter_.'_ Cristobel smiled, it wasn't a friendly gesture.

                Demeter thought she could smell a faint odor on his breath.  It smelled rather like Merlot or several shots of Caribbean rum.  It was a sweetish kind of odor, chemical for certain, but what it was she did not know.

                "These children are not your concern," he said, scrutinizing her from over the rims of his glasses, "nor is any other project that does not relate to your field, or to those assignments to which you are not assigned."

                The time that had passed since they had last seen each other had not been kind to Barton in Demeter's opinion.  The man had grown more bloated than she remembered, his complexion had darkened, probably from all those days being spent out at numerous training facilities, it clashed nauseatingly with his white-gold hair and pale eyes.  Aside from visiting those facilities, as River had reported him doing, he remained in his office and lavishly spacious apartments nearby most of the time, studying all the projects going on within the Barton Foundation and checking on their progress from the sanctuary of his personal space.  All the while looking for more ways to consolidate his power.

                "With all due respect, sir, I believe it _is_ my concern. The genetics from which these copies have been made, genetics from the one called Damia who along with the rest of her group was termed a finished experiment, must not be misused-"

                "That will be enough, Demeter Ederle.  I fail to understand why you insist on seeing conspiracies around every corner.  Whatever you believe is happening in the experiment you very nearly disrupted is utterly false.  They are an experiment to garner information, which will be shared in open conferences with other firms, diplomatic discussions at best.  Anything that we uncover that is useful is available for _all_ to benefit from.  That is all."  Barton said, looking at her coldly.  For a few moments there was quiet. "I take your silence as insubordination, Doctor Ederle."

                _'Benefit to all? He must really believe me daft if he thinks that statement throws me at all. He takes himself entirely too seriously.  If I didn't see something extremely unethical and very unprincipled about that operation I wouldn't be here, and I wouldn't have cared at all about it.' _Demeter bitterly thought._ 'Still, he's taking himself too high here, even his office reflects it.  A place for everything and everything in its place.  Everything on his desk is arranged in a geometric pattern. The starkly proper certificates and diplomas on the walls. Even the furniture here is something more suited to something in the military…_' Demeter observed with well-hidden disgust, then something flashed in her head, _'The military! It _all_ goes back to the _military!_'_

                "I am not insubordinate, sir.  If I were not loyal to the concerns and demands of the Barton Foundation and Romefeller I would not be here.  As a scientist I wish to continue to serve wherever I am capable.  I am currently between assignments, on research leave, and with that I request to formally be transferred and assigned to Africa, and to that training facility I earlier visited."

                Cristobel turned away, swiveling on the ball bearings of his chair to face the picture window behind him. "Request denied. You are dismissed."

                Demeter could not fail to notice the militaristic style of the dismissal.  The man was too pompous and pig-headed for words. "What assignment do you suggest then, sir?"

                "You know the proper channels Ederle, use them."

                "I was under the impression that-"

                "I believe you may not have heard me, Doctor.  You were dismissed." Barton swiveled back to look at her, "The next time I am forced to repeat myself, you will leave with a guard escort."

                "Very well," Demeter said, knowing she had no other choice.  She had pressed this interview as far as it could go, "I thank you for your time, excuse me Doctor Barton."          

                After Demeter left, Cristobel thought for a long time, staring unblinkingly at the door where she had made her exit.  He was uneasy around her, as he was similarly uneasy around any of her siblings, the few who were still alive anyway.  This whole Shinigami project had opened a can of worms with them and Demeter was among four that were closer than he would like to being able to do something about it.  A lesson needed to be taught, before any more trouble of Demeter's kind began to brew... or if the others got ideas of their own.  Taking a deep breath in and out once to center himself, he reached for the switch on his intercom and asked his secretary to send Nikolai to him, his head of personal security.

*              *              *

                Tall and gaunt, Nikolai stood at ease before Cristobel.  He was thin, but wiry, with dark gray eyes flecked with ice-chips of light blue. Unlike most people, Nikolai had virtually no memorable physical traits.  Barton often caught himself glancing at him every once in a while; just to remember what he looked like.  Of tall height and lean build, Nikolai was a bit thin for most people's standards, but it suited him perfectly.  His head was framed by close-cropped hair that made its medium-brown color almost unnoticeable.

                "I would like you to perform another elimination, Nikolai.  Choose two of your best people for the job."

                Nikolai nodded acceptance to the orders. "The target?" Nikolai asked, he never spoke much, and when he did it was brief and to the point.

                "Doctor Demeter Ederle."

                "The one who just left."  It sounded more like a statement of fact rather than a question.

                "Yes, that was her. Remember, I do not want to be connected to the deed, in fact, make sure that the Foundation isn't connected at all.  I do not want you carrying any ID in case something goes wrong."

                "We never do."

                "Just a reminder, she is soldier-trained after all. Plan this well, but do it quickly."

                "My duty as always."

                "Dismissed."

                Nikolai, expressionless as always, bowed once and turned to walk out the door Demeter had so recently passed through.  He took the time in crossing to choose whom he would be bringing for this mission, he knew Demeter's history, and because of that history he could not bring his most capable underling. _'Darius shall not like this at all_.' He languidly thought. 

As Nikolai neared the halfway point to the door, Cristobel suddenly had a flash of insight. "Nikolai?" He quickly said.

                Nikolai paused and turned back, "Sir?"

                "I want you to take a certain someone with you as well as your two men. He is not a target, but I want him to see. So he won't meddle either."

                "His name?"

                "Buhallin, Julius Buhallin."

                "Yes sir."

                "Dismissed."

*              *              *

                For a minute or so after Nikolai left, Cristobel Barton deeply regretted the necessity of eliminating Demeter Ederle, specialists like her were few and very far between, and she had progressed to the level of very good, very quickly in her career.  It was a shame to lose her; he could have milked a good forty more years out of her otherwise.  

Two minutes after Nikolai left his office Cristobel Barton returned to his routine, examining with a judicious and critical eye examining reports, making notes and comments on the progress of certain routines, filing data reports for Romefeller, calling in various scientists for more details on their various projects.  Work always was his best analgesic. 

By the end of the day, he would have completely forgotten about Demeter Ederle.

Compartmentalizing was Cristobel's best skill and greatest qualification for being the head of the Medical Branch in his family.  It helped in his scheming to gain that office and it would continue to help him in doing what few of his predecessors had accomplished, staying in office, and staying alive for that period.  He had seen early on that intrigue created success, and he, in turn, became very skilled at creating intrigue.  He was so good at it that few people ever caught him doing it, Nikolai then took care of them.  The Shinigami Project was his latest brainchild, it would probably be his best one yet, and no one suspected a thing. Well… it had become clear though, that Dr. Demeter Ederle had, and when Cristobel saw that, her fate was sealed.


	5. Distressing Behavior

Chapter 5: Distressing Behavior

**Training Center VIII: Chikara Division**

**Africa, Earth**

**28 March, AC. 185**

                "Enter, but be prepared to have your legs shot off for the interruption," Julius replied to the scratch at his door.

                Nikolai smiled before entering.  Clearly, Julius was not expecting to be visited by the chief of Christobel Barton's security.  But then, who would?

                When he saw him, and recognized him a moment later, Julius' face reddened slightly, but he was not flustered.  The instructor merely rose from his seat and said, in a vaguely apologetic tone, "My apologies, sir, I was expecting a subordinate."

                "At ease." Nikolai said. "My orders are for you to accompany me on an assignment. Dr. Barton demands it, do you accept?"

                Julius swallowed reflexively; 'assignments' with Nikolai and his crew never went well for any tag-on involved, there were so many fatal accidents in them. Internally, Julius felt like someone was slowly filling his head with oatmeal, that the jig was up and he was caught, he felt suddenly sluggish and extremely tired. Externally, he betrayed no such sentiment and simply said, blue eyes cool and calm.  "I do.  When do we leave?"

**Marketplace, New Nairobi**

**Africa, Earth**

**1 April, AC. 185**

                Normally the business of the renowned New Nairobi Marketplace was a small daily event in the large city, built on the ruins of the first Nairobi -destroyed in a campaign battle decades ago.  Craftsmen showed their handiwork, and people came in droves for the high-quality works.  However, the crowds were unusually thick, even for the rush hour and new merchants were hawking their wares, wares that weren't always up to the usual standards.  Unsurprisingly, because of this there had been more than a few fights between merchants, clumsy skirmishes most of them, usually with a permanent seller attacking one of the new squatters and destroying their goods, inferior merchandise the majority of it.  As an inevitable result, the invading merchants had brought in bodyguards to protect their stalls and property.

                It was suspected that those bodyguards were felons, mostly because they tended to slip into the nearest shadow to hide whenever the police or the odd patrolling party of MP's strolled down the aisles, looking for such undesirables or merely browsing through.

                Demeter only knew a little of what was going on with the squatter situation, and cared even less as she ran her hand along a shawl at that merchant had draped along his booth.  The fabric didn't have much pattern to it, but Demeter found the tight weave and the gradual, but rapid change of the subtle colors in the cloth, where the threads blended into different shades very intriguing.  The merchant manning the booth quoted a price to Demeter, expertly noting her interest in the item she fingered.  Demeter gave the man a dry look, shook her head and walked away, she mildly wondered if the fellow was one of the squatters that was causing such a fuss, the price for that piece of cloth had been high enough to merit it.

                It did not matter much, she had not been in the mood to buy anything really, Demeter was more of a window shopper and rather liked to see what other people were capable of creating.  She found her casual scrutiny relaxing, and enjoyed taking in all the sights and sounds and different shades of human talent and imagination on these little walks.

                She stopped for a moment at another booth, which was hosting lovely pieces of wooden furniture, constructed in the old styles, some of which looked wonderfully primitive and harsh, others more elegant and refined.  She gazed for a long while at a table set, the top carved with an intricate design and the legs in spiraling patterns.  It would look lovely in her office, if she had one.  She chuckled sourly, thanks to Barton and the med-tech's little habit of shunning those who started to cause problems within their system, Demeter knew there was no reason to buy the table, handsome though it was.  The word on the grapevine was that Christobel was planning on sending her off on some backwater project to keep her out of whatever was going on at that base that seemed to be his new little baby.  The table would be a waste, so there was no reason to possess such a fine piece of furniture.

                To avoid having to fend off a haggling session with the merchant who had taken notice of her and was steamrolling their way towards her, Demeter nonchalantly glanced out side the booth.  She looked long and casual at the movement outside, like she had nothing better to do and strolled out of the booth, leaving a frustrated merchant standing at the other end of the table, glaring a large hole in the med-tech's back.

                It was late afternoon settling into dusk as Demeter finished her tour in the marketplace.  She had decided to return to her temporary quarters, a building set-aside for medical personnel on a transitory stay and for official visitors.  She had a small room -which she had specifically requested of the managers, and they had been meticulous about granting her request- and though not overly eager to return, she wanted some close quarters after the agoraphobic nightmare of the marketplace.  In choosing to cross through the marketplace on her way back to her building, she was just in time to witness another fight break out between merchants.

                Rather, it was a fight that broke out among _several_ merchants.  Screams, cursing, flying fists and the violent crashing of baubles greeted her as she made her way down the main walkway, and the fight was rapidly growing as more and more merchants leapt up to defend their stalls and remaining products after a day's selling.  Demeter, not liking the idea of trying to fight her way through the melee, made a snap decision and turned down a minor walkway, away from the marketplace and it's brawl.

                Three or four blocks from the marketplace, Demeter realized she had taken a wrong turn somewhere.  She walked to a corner, looked down the intersecting street both ways and saw nothing she recognized, not even a sign.  It was a juvenile delinquent habit to pluck street signs loose all over the city and keep them as trophies, the practice had been going on for so many years that the inhabitants were largely used to maneuvering around on landmarks alone, many of the newer drives didn't realize that the streets they used even had names.  Though she had been in the city for a few days now, Demeter wasn't familiar with the general landmarks of the place and didn't recall ever being in this part of town before.

                "You seem lost." A deep, almost gentle voice said behind her.

                Startled, Demeter whirled around to face a tall, slim man, dressed in plain military fatigues.  His face was bland and had generally nothing memorable about it, and his dark gray eyes were flecked with chilly blue.  Demeter blinked and took in that his hair was a close-shaven military-style buzz cut and he looked rather like he needed a shave, a five o'clock shadow looked rather heavy on him.

                "I am." Demeter, replied, seeing that she was facing an off-duty soldier, likely one who was stationed at the nearby mobile suit base. "I am new to this city and do not know this sector."

                "This is the warehouse district," he said, sounding perfectly cool and military, "what are you looking for?"

                "The Medical Sciences Residence complex."

                The man nodded once, "Ahh, that is not far from here."

                "Can you give me directions to the complex?" Demeter said, feeling her luck had changed for the better, allowed a small smile to lift the corners of her mouth.

                "I will escort you there." He said, turned and began walking down the sidewalk.

                Demeter almost did not follow him immediately, since she was rather surprised by the quick, jerky way he moved on and the fact that he did not look back once to see if she was following him.  Something about that tickled a warning in her brain that this was amiss, but she ignored the feeling and jogged to catch up to him, falling into stride on step behind him.  She noticed a patch on his arm, denoting him as a member of a military police unit, she said, "Are you an MP?"

                "Yes."

                "I had not known your range was this far out, I had been of the impression that MP were mostly distributed to handle potential disorderly conduct in crowds."

                "They are." He said, without even a sidelong glance.

                "What do you think about the controversy of the new testing procedures in cadet training, they've gotten lighter and many are not pleased about that?" Demeter suddenly said, trying for some small talk.

                "It does not concern me."

                Demeter was surprised at the reaction, given that this MP officer looked like he had been in the military for some time now; he must surely have an opinion.  Many of the older officials were against the lightening of standards, but the public had demanded it, when injury rates were finally revealed to them.  This indifference to the hot topic was unusual to say the least.

                "Do you think, as some do, that the limit on people who are of small stature is unjust?"  
                "It does not concern me."

                "What about those who wear glasses?"

                "That does not concern me."

                Something about the way he said that made Demeter feel as though he had no clue of what she was talking about.  The chime of danger rang loudly in her brain, she stopped walking.  "It does not concern you, because you don't know what I'm talking about."

                "This is the path straight to the residence complex." He said, ignoring her accusation and turning down an alleyway that she had not noticed before. "Come." He said.

                Demeter had a moment of hesitation, her mind cried for her to turn and bolt, but curiosity drove her after him. "You do not know what I am speaking of, do you?" She said, as she stepped into the alleyway.

                "It does not matter." He said and turned towards her.

                Demeter's brows furrowed, "You are wearing a military police uniform, but you are not an officer, are you." She said, the phrase a statement.

                "It does not matter _now_." He said, even in the shadows of the alley, Demeter could see his hands curl into fists.  Peeling off of the walls beside him, Demeter could see two other figures emerge from the shadows.  If she was not mistaken, they too wore military police uniforms.

                _Oh shit!_

                Demeter started to cautiously back away, all the while analyzing her situation, in these close quarters and outnumbered three-to-one she knew she stood no chance, being out on the street would tip the odds in her favor.  She turned and bolted for the entrance, she made two strides before something hard and heavy cuffed her behind her knee, making her leg crumple beneath her and sending her sprawling for a moment.

                She gathered herself together and tried to roll into a combat crouch as something seized her shoulders from above and behind and lifted her off the ground. The man had her, pinning both of her arms back behind her back nearly twisting her shoulder joints out of their sockets. Demeter bared her teeth in a vicious snarl as she smashed the back of her head into her attacker's nose, hearing something break as she pulled away from his loosened grip.  There was a faint smell of something she noticed as the second came at her, the odd chemical/rummy odor she had whiffed in Barton's office, she got a single good look in his eyes and saw nothing as he grabbed her by her jacket collar and tossed her into the third; the tall, gaunt fellow who had lured her there to begin with.

                And then it began…

                She took many blows -many brutal, painful blows- before she finally passed out.

                Nikolai ended it with one final kick to the ribs, sending the body sprawling over onto it's back, where it settled and lay still.  A little pool of red started to spread beneath the still form as the trio walked back into their alley.

                A fourth watched them approach and two of them pass him by with hardly a glance.  Nikolai paused, stared the other man dead in the eye.

                "Consider this a warning Julius. Dismissed."  Nikolai said, brushing past the instructor and disappearing with his team, into the shadows.

                Julius listened to Nikolai's departure and stared at the form in the street for a long while, eyes bright with unshed tears.

"_Sister_…" He whispered, voice heart-stricken, as the night wind picked up, blowing the odd debris of wastepaper between them in the cold moonlight.


End file.
